


Witch Used SLAM... It's Super Effective!

by crossroadswrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Head Injury, Wings, dream walking, fluff & scmoop, winged Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester gets a concussion, everyone learns about Cas’s wings and there’s something about Star Trek in there somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witch Used SLAM... It's Super Effective!

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for TFW Secret Santa back on tumblr. The authors were only revieled today therefore I'm posting it now, since I always post anything over 2.5k here.

Dean Winchester does not get concussed. Ever. He is a warrior. He fought the god damn apocalypse and he will certainly not be home bound just because his brother is being a sissy mcsissypants and is vomiting words about the dangers of a concussion and “You fell from the second story of a house, Dean.”.

Whatever. Not like he cares that Cas and Sam dumped him in the some motel and went on their merry way to be the moose and angel-of-the-Lord ghostbusters incorporated. Because he doesn’t.

He is not concussed and they should not have left him behind. I mean, come on! Sam gets concussed all the time hitting his head on the ceiling every time he enters somewhere not designed for giants. And Cas- Castiel is just a walking accident about to happen. Apparently angelhood doesn’t make you less of a klutz and Dean’s honestly surprised he wasn’t the one to get concussed and thrown over the railings of the stairwell on the second floor by some crazy biotch.

Fucking witches, man!

He grabs the phone by the nth time and speed dials Sam. He gets voice mail and Sam’s annoying voice “I swear to God if you call one more time, Dean. We’re fine stop being such a hen mother. If this is not Dean then please leave your number and nightmare after the sign.”

Dean grunts in annoyance and speed dials Cas, who – bless him – answers after the second ring.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. Everything okay over there.” He asks worriedly.  
“Everything is okay. Sam said that I shouldn’t answer the phone.”  
“Don’t listen to that bitch, Cas. When I call you answer.” He tells him and he can almost hear Cas nod on the other side of the line, before the angel remembers that Dean can’t actually see him.  
“Of course, Dean.” He says solemnly “I always come when you call.”  
And just what is he supposed to say to that. God damn Cas and his lack of chick-flick avoiding skills.  
“Uh, yeah. I know. Uh, just checking if everything was, uh, okay.”  
  
“Sam is calling me.” Castiel informs “I must go. Goodbye Dean.” He offers before the line goes dead.  
  
Dean slowly takes the phone away from his face and stares at it. Well, that gives him absolutely nothing.  
  
“Good talk, Cas.” He bitches to no one in particular.  
  
Ugh, being concussed sucks. He can’t watch TV, he can’t walk around the town because “one of the symptoms of concussion is disorientation. You should avoid any tasks that put a further strain to your brain, Dean.” And he’s stuck in a god damn motel room with fuck nothing to do except twiddle his thumbs. He doesn’t even feel like taking his baby for a ride or cranking up Zeppelin on her stereo and piss all of the neighbors.  
  
It fucking sucks.  
  
Dean settles by kicking off his shoes and stretching out on the motel bed, fully clothed and over the bedspread. God knows if those were cleaned or not.  
  
He flops on his stomach and closes his eyes.  
  
You’re not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion, but it’s been nearly twenty four hours and it’s late. Sam and Cas won’t be here until tomorrow afternoon, choosing to spend the night a couple of towns over where the ghost was giving the locals some trouble. They haven’t been able to track down the remains since the dude was burned to ashes, but Sam says he’s close to finding something.  
  
Whatever. He’s not a kid. He can very well spend two days alone.  
  
«»  
  
Sam’s okay with Cas.  
  
He’s not as into Cas as Dean seems to be with the all ‘profound bond’ and everything, but still he and Cas are friends and when the angel suggested he’s accompany Sam in this hunt due to Dean’s concussion he was really okay with it. That is until the angel started looking at him like a kicked puppy and apologizing for everything. And he means everything. From betraying them to breaking Sam’s wall, which, yeah, was pretty dick-y of him to do, but ei! Sam’s cool with it and punching Cas would only really break his hand, so.  
  
“Thank you for talking to us, Miss O’Grady. We’ll be sure to inform you if there’s any development in the case.” He says solemnly while the weeping window sniffles and steals another look at Cas uncomfortably.  
  
He elbows the angel on the side, wincing when his elbow connects with what seems cement.  
  
Castiel seems to get the memo, though. He blinks and says in his way-too-low voice “Yes, thank you.” Before getting up stiffly and walking to the door unceremoniously.  
  
Sam throws an apologetic look to the lady and follows the angel before he decides to pull a disappearing act.  
  
“Cas.” He calls out, the angel already hunching his shoulders and preparing for flight. Castiel stops and turns around, an impatient look on his face “Where are you going?”  
  
“Dean is injured.” He answers simply “I should check if he requires anything.”  
  
“Dean’ll be fine.” Sam tries to assure “Besides, we still got some work here before we can go back. I was thinking we should check into a motel do some research and I’ll sleep my four hours.” There’s a moment of hesitation before the angel nods and automatically raises two fingers to Sam’s forehead to teleport them where they need to go.  
  
Sam flinches away from the hand. Last time it didn’t go so well.  
  
“We have to take the car, Cas. Dean would kill us if we just left her here in the middle of the street.” He says, distracting the frowning angel from his previous slip.  
  
Castiel nods and enters the car, spending the entire journey to the nearest hotel looking thoroughly uncomfortable and caged in. Small spaces for angels can’t be all that comfortable.  
  
And then it suddenly occurs to him that Cas’s wings don’t fit inside the Impala. Sam’s only seen shadows against a wall but still, the things looked massive. There’s no way they can fit inside the Impala.  
  
“How do you fit your wings inside the car?” he asks curiously.  
  
The angel snaps his head to him, clearly surprised with the question.  
  
“My wings, as you call them, are part of another plane of existence that overlaps over this one. They go through material things, such as the car.” He explains “You only perceive them as wings because that’s what your human mind expects them to look like, when they’re made of light and energy and grace and exploding stars.”  
  
Sam hums “That’s pretty cool, actually.”  
  
Castiel frowns “In what matter are my wings cold if they cannot feel the elements?”  
  
Sam snorts and decides to ignore that one, he’ll leave it to Dean.  
  
«»  
  
Sam drives them back to the motel and turns his laptop on, saying for Cas not to worry that he’ll spend the night doing research and they’ll probably be able to go by morning.  
  
He is wrong. Sam falls asleep on the table after three hours of dead ends leaving Cas standing uncomfortably near him, not quite sure what to do now since his body does not require sleep-  
  
In the end he decides to get Sam into the bed like he’s seen Dean do so many times. He takes the younger Winchester’s shoes off and settles him in one of the mattresses, pulling the covers over him.  
  
Sam remains deep asleep during the entire process, mainly because Cas sent him into a state of deeper slumber, assuring the Winchester got all the rest he needed.  
  
He doesn’t know what to do next.  
  
In all truth he doesn’t really need to do anything. He could stay right here until Sam woke up, but since the man had declared it creepy he decides against it.  
  
Castiel purses his lips and shuffles in place a little bit before he decides to check on the older Winchester. With just a thought he spreads his wings and finds himself in Dean’s room.  
  
Dean is asleep much for Cas’s disappointment. He half expected for him to be awake watching what he liked to call ‘crap TV’ and – how Sam likes to put it – bitching about how he infomercial chicks weren’t even hot.  
  
He approaches the bed anyway, two fingers outstretched to make sure Dean is alright and all of his symptoms have faded.  
  
Dean frowns in his sleep pursing his lips in what looks like apprehension. . . or maybe pain. Castiel is not that skilled at reading human signs, so, just to be on the safe side, he decides to visit Dean’s dreams. If the older Winchester is going through any kind of distress, he can probably help with it.  
  
Castiel closes his eyes and wills himself into the hunters mind. When he opens his eyes again he’s in hell.  
  
Dean’s on the rack and dream!Alastair is cutting into him slowly, telling him how he did just the same to his father.  
  
“No one’s coming for you, Dean-o.” the demon snarls “You’re worth nothing. No one would ever even consider rescuing you.” The knife on the demon’s hand digs deeper into Dean’s abdomen making the hunter scream in pain, teeth bloody.  
  
That’s all that Cas can put with before he’s surging forward, one hand on Alastair’s head and smiting the demon with a vengeance.  
  
Dean gasps on the rack, eyes wide and staring at him almost awestruck. The hunter spits blood to the floor before gasping “Cas.”  
  
The angel puts a hand on his shoulder and the next thing they’re not in Hell anymore. They’re in a meadow, the floor is covered by short grass and purple-ish flowers sprout everywhere.  
  
Cas doesn’t recognize this place. He’s never seen it in reality for that it must be a figment of Dean’s imagination.  
  
Dean is in front of him, doubled over, hands on his knees and gasping, but thankfully free of blood and cuts. His body is as pristine as it was when Cas rebuilt it.  
  
“I’m dreaming aren’t I?” the hunter asks, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down.  
  
“Yes. I noticed your distress.” Cas answers seriously, watching Dean straighten up slowly, muscles relaxing and breathing back to normal, until his eyes land on him.  
“Oh!” Dean breathes out, eyes wide and a little boy’s wonder expression stamped on his face.  
  
Castiel frowns and his about to ask him what his wrong, when two massive shadows fall down across the grass just in front of him.  
  
Cas looks over his shoulder and sure enough there are wings on his back. Two massive things spreading out as far as they can go. His feathers a shade of black fading to dark blue on the tips.  
  
Castiel shakes them experimentally, before folding them over his back. He wasn’t expecting for Dean to perceive him with wings.  
  
“That’s” Dean starts, before interrupting himself and clearing his throat “Wow.” He breathes, peeking over Castiel’s shoulder to see the wings “You have wings.” He says dumbly.  
  
“I am an angel, Dean. We do have wings. Even if these are only what your human mind can conjure. In all reality, they would burn your eyes out.”  
  
Dean blinks at him a couple of times before snorting “Whatever dude. It’s still awesome.” He declares, taking a step forward before stopping.  
  
Dean bites his lower and looks at Castiel threw his eyelashes.  
  
“Can I-“ he clears his throat “Can I touch them?” the hunter blushes slightly and Castiel tilts his head with a frown.  
  
“Of course. After all they’re a mere object of your imagination Dean. You made them look like this, so I can’t see why not.”  
  
Castiel spreads his right wing and waits for the other man to approach, one slightly shaking hand outstretched.  
  
Dean brushed his fingers along his secondary feathers and sucks in a sharp intake of breath. He pulls his hand away slightly like a kid touching something for the first time, afraid it’ll bite him, before he touches it again more confidently.  
  
This time he splays his palm through secondaries and scapulars and digging his fingers in between the feathers, sending a tingling sensation up his wing and down Castiel’s back.  
  
The angel makes a little startled noise in the back of his throat, wing flinching away. Dean immediately takes his hand back with a worried look.  
  
“Sorry.” He mutters apologetically “Did I hurt you?”  
  
Cas shakes his head “No, no. I-“ he frowns “I shouldn’t feel anything at all. It is your dream Dean.”  
  
Dean purses his lips “Yeah, but did it felt bad?” he pushes.  
  
“No. It felt. . . tingly.” Castiel decides, because that was exactly what it had felt like. A tingling sensation cursing down his spine.  
  
“Oh!” Dean says, looking amused “Is that so?” and, without warning, the hunter pushes his hand back into Cas’ wings, making the angel shudder as he sort of combs through them.  
  
Dean beams at him “Well, isn’t that a neat party trick.” He says cheekily.  
  
Castiel glares, tucking his wings safely against his back. Dean just laughs at his reaction.  
  
“Aw, don’t be like that. I think your wings are awesome.” He assures, still with a smirk playing in his lips.  
  
“I should get going. Your brother might need my assistance.”  
  
“No!” Dean all but shouts, voice sounding a little bit panicky “Just- stay? For a little while? I promise I’ll behave.” He says lifting one hand and drawing a cross on top of his heart with the other “Just, lay down with me. We can watch the bees or whatever.” He offers.  
  
Castiel purses his lips, before slowly sitting down and letting himself fall backwards.  
  
Dean sits next to him and lays down as well, beaming.  
  
“What do your real wings look like?” the older Winchester inquires.  
  
“Like energy and grace. I suppose if you could see them without burning your eyes out, you would perceive them as flowing light.”  
  
“That’s actually pretty cool.” He admits, before turning his head to look at Cas “Do you use them to fight?”  
  
“For balance, mostly. Wings are extremely sensitive and can be damaged severely in battle although we can fix them with our grace.”  
  
“Oh. That’s why they’re ticklish?”  
  
Castiel rolls his eyes.  
  
“They are not ticklish.”  
  
“Yeah, they are.”  
  
“Dean.” He complains exasperatedly “My wings are millennia old. They are certainly not ticklish.”  
  
Dean reaches his hand over skimming his fingers over his tertiaries feathers, punching a laugh out of Cas.  
  
“See. Ticklish.” He proclaims proudly while Castiel lays there dumbstruck at the feeling.  
  
“That was new.” He declares with a slight frown.  
  
“What, have you never been tickled before.”  
  
“I am an angel of the Lord. I am made of Godly wrath. I am a warrior of the Heavens. We do not tickle each other.” He says slightly annoyed.  
  
“Well, yeah. You should.”  
  
Dean puts his hands behind his back and looks up at the sky “Man it is nice here. We should bring Sammy sometime. I bet he would love it here.”  
  
Cas nods and lets himself lean back, looking up at the sky, wings splayed on the grass, tips barely brushing against Dean’s arm.  
  
He is right. It is nice here. Maybe Castiel should dreamwalk more often.  
  
«»  
  
The next time it happens Cas pulls Sam along with him, after he’s gotten his permission of course. After all, angels are all about permission.  
  
They arrive to Dean consciousness to find themselves surrounded by a strange scenery. Dean is wearing a yellow shirt, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, people working around him as he stares ahead to the glass showing deep space and burning stars ahead of them.  
  
“Mister Spock.” He calls “What are the Starfleet’s rules to come out of this particular situation?”  
  
They watch as Cas, or dream!Cas, with pointy ears and remarkably high eyebrows steps forward and explains in all seriousness the status of the situation.  
  
“Well, that’s dumb, so we’re not gonna do that.” Dean declares when dream!Cas stops spluttering space vocabulary.  
  
“God, damnit Dean.” Comes another voice and they turn just in time to see Sam walk in in a blue shirt and some type of syringe in one hand “I told you to be on the medical bay ten minutes ago.”  
  
Dean spins his chair around and huffs annoyed “I’m in the middle of something, Sammy.” He complains.  
  
The real Sam starts laughing hysterically by his side then, bending over himself and gasping for air as Dean jumps out of his chair and glares at both of them, turning beat red.  
  
“What the fuck!” Dean exclaims indignantly, walking towards them fast as the world around them disappears and his clothes turn into the normal ones “That was private! You can’t just waltz into someone’s head like that!”  
  
Cas presses his lips together “I apologize. I should’ve noticed you that this was going to happen prior of it happening.”  
  
Sam sucks in a deep breath by his side “Ohmygod! You were Kirk and he was Spock. Do you understand how gay they are for each other?”  
  
Dean scowls at his brother “Shut your face, Sammy. Kirk is a manly man and you have been spending way too much time with Charlie.” He announces, turning on his heels and sinking down on the picnic blanket set in the middle of the meadow, a picnic basket set by his side.  
  
Dean dips his hand inside of it greedily and pulls out some pie, licking his lips and wiggling in his seat a little bit before he grabs a fork and sets the container on top of his legs, ready to shove his mouth with the pastry.  
  
Sam tries to compose himself, before straightening and looking at Cas, mouth immediately falling open.  
  
“You- you-“  
  
Cas merely rolls his eyes at the younger Winchester incoherence and moves forward to join Dean on the picnic blanket, wings shuffling a bit on his back.  
  
“Yeah, Cas has wings. Pretty neat right?” Dean grins at his brother around a mouthful of pie. He swallows it forcefully before adding “Now now, Sammy. Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” He advises and Sam shuts his mouth and straightens himself, moving forward and joining him on the picnic blanket, folding his bigger than average limbs and seating cross-legged.  
  
“Atta boy.” Dean praises, dipping his hand on the basket and pulling out an apple, promptly throwing it at Sam’s head, the younger Winchester catching it easily before biting into it.  
  
“So,” Sam starts around a mouthful of apple, and honestly you would have thought that the boys who saved earth from the apocalypse would have some manners. Apparently not. “Cas has wings in your dreams.” He says, leaning forward slightly, caging Dean in.  
  
“I don’t know man. He just appeared in here and BAM! Wings.”  
  
“Perhaps Dean’s subconscious adopted the most obvious form as he had only seen my wings projected on a wall.” Castiel offers lightly, looking around the scenery.  
  
Dean hums noncommittally and Sam turns back to look at Cas with the curiously examining look he always gets when confronted with something new.  
  
“Can I touch them?” he asks out of a sudden.  
  
Cas tilts his head slightly “There is something to be said about the Winchesters and the need to touch.” He declares before snapping his left wing open and bending towards Sam’s reach, so the boy can shyly touch the tips of his fingers to them stroking one feather between his fingers.  
  
“Okay! That’s enough touching!” Dean declares loudly, receiving a pout from Sam “Dude, they are a product of my imagination. You are stroking my imagination.” He argues and that seems to do it. Sam gets a disgusted look on his face and pulls his hand back.  
  
“Can you fly?” Sam asks, taking another bite off his apple.  
  
Cas frowns “I would assume so.”  
  
“Nothing like testing to see.” Sam says, getting an excited look on his face.  
  
Cas nods slowly, getting up from his seat and readying himself to take flight, wings shuffling before stretching and pulling the air down, taking Cas a couple inches on the air with some frantic beatings. The angel seems to get more confident then, slapping his wings in time and flying higher up, trench coat caught in the breeze summoned by Dean’s thoughts as he flies in a wide circle, breathing in the fresh air.  
  
It feels great to fly like this. Without a worry or a destiny on your mind. Just fly because you feel like it. It feels like freedom and free will. This is what Cas tried to thought his brothers and sisters all that time ago. It is a true pity that many didn’t comprehend it.  
  
He flies as high as he can, his wings powerful and design for both strength and speed. When he reaches the upmost top of the sky of Dean’s mind he lets himself fall. Wings stop their beating until his spiraling down, head first into the ground.  
  
He can hear Dean and Sam startle and get up, running towards him.  
  
Cas is reaching the floor at a dizzying speed. A couple more meters and he’ll fall face first. In an instant, right before he hits the ground hard, Cas snaps his wings open and soars through the hair, falling neatly on his feet again.  
  
He’s breathing fast, feeling exhilarated by the adrenaline and the cheer thought of his own mortality.  
  
Dean is walking towards him, glare on his face and jaw set.  
  
“Do not fucking do that again!” he threatens, punching him on the arm lightly, not hard enough to hurt himself.  
  
“Jesus, Castiel!” Sam breathes out “You could have fallen.”  
  
A small depreciative smile makes its way onto Cas’s face “I already have.” He says.  
  
“You are a fucking asshole.” Dean informs him, turning back to the picnic area and pulling Cas by his tie behind him “You are going to sit your ass down, eat a burger and enjoy my dream before you try to plummet to your death again, understand?”  
  
“I am an angel. I had the situation under control.” Cas says annoyed. Humans, especially the Winchester, have the bad habit of demeaning the angels.  
  
Dean only rolls his eyes, passing Cas a hamburger and getting himself some more pie. Sam joins them, picking his apple up and launching in an inquiry about anything and everything to do with Cas’ wings.  
  
Cas answers every single one of them the best he can patiently. Sam’s almost childlike curiosity is one of his best qualities. And Cas is finding that the time he spends with both the Winchesters is by far the best he had in the time he existed.  
  
He decides to stick around and learn from them everything he can. Stay with this little family that’s broken and battered and in no way sane, but decided to take him in and forgive him anyway.  
  
He might even decide to become a hunter. His angel’s skills would certainly benefit the Winchesters.  
  
Yes, that sounds like the best avenue and, in the end, he knows that very little could take him


End file.
